Missing in Action
by deadlynightfall
Summary: Hawkeye's gone missing, but even after his return, he still doesn't seem to be there. - Eventual BJ x Hawkeye slash. Language, and graphic scenes on occasion.
1. Missing

"Choppers!" Radar cried, nearly dropping the clipboard tucked under his arm, as he made sure to alert the Colonel.  
_"Choppers in the compound! All staff report, on the double,"_ a voice rang from the PA system, setting all on high alert as people rushed towards triage, diagnosing patients and shouting orders back and forth. Wounded were moved to pre-op, doctors scrubbing furiously, rushing into the operating room and waiting for the monotonous session of OR to begin. Patients were brought in slowly and carefully, set down onto tables and put under with an ease that only learned doctors and nurses had.

"How's that patient of yours, Captain Murray?" Potter's voice asked, his eyes settled on the kid his elbows were buried in. "He's holding up, Potter, sir… for now," the captain paused, assessing the damage on the patient below him. He had been diagnosed with a concussion, several abrasions around the shin and knee, and a broken ankle.  
Unless there was something this replacement doctor wasn't seeing, the kid would be fine and would pull through. "Good, now what about you? You seem to be shaking in your boots." Potter's voice had a twinge of concern. "I'm alright, thanks," the reply was clear through the cloth mask the surgeon wore.

The rest of the OR session was quiet, with the exception of a handful of, "Clamp," and "Suction," tossed around. With a drawn-out sigh, Potter's tired voice called, "Klinger! How many wounded left in the compound?" "None, sir, that's the last of them." The whole room seemed to sigh with relief. In the scrub room, BJ pulled off his bloody clothing, tossing his mask, shirt, and pants into their respective baskets. Without so much as a snide comment to Winchester, who had just entered the room, he left, making his way tiredly to the Mess Tent and pouring himself some coffee, taking a sip and sitting down at an empty table. He gave a weary sigh, setting the cup down and refusing to give it another glance.

After a few minutes, a voice asked him, "May I join you?" He nodded silently, and Margaret's slim form slid into the bench across from him, her coffee mug held in both hands. They both sat in silence for a moment, before BJ's ragged voice asked a question only she'd be able to hear.  
"Where has he gone?" He asked, barely able to whisper. Margaret sighed, taking a drink of her coffee and blinking slowly before replying. "I don't know, BJ, I don't know. But you need not dwell on it… move on. He'd want you to." This simple statement, while trying to help, only infuriated him. "He's not dead! I know it! I'm not going to move on and forget my best friend, because I know he'd never do that to me! If I were in his place, I'd be looking for him nonstop! In fact," He rose from the bench, his coffee forgotten, "I'm going to do just that!"

"No way, Jose, you don't leave this camp," came a strong and stern voice. Potter had stepped in, just in time. "Colonel, if it were me in his place, Hawk would do the same thing! You know that! I have to find him, I don't want to sit idly by and wait to find out that he's been killed. I have to find him." "Except, Hunnicutt, if you _were_ in Pierce's place, I'd make him stay as well," his voice was beginning to rise, not in frustration, but with concern. "I've already got one surgeon missing, I can't have you go gallivanting off looking for him! Damn it, I need you here, and that's where you'll stay!" He paused for a moment, giving a relented sigh.  
"I'll call the MPs, and tell them to continue searching. You get back to the Swamp and get some rest." BJ sighed sadly, rubbing his temples with one hand, giving a glance to both the Major and the Colonel, and tiredly leaving the Mess Tent, stumbling back to the Swamp.

Collapsing on his cot, he gave a sigh, his head falling wearily into his hands as his thoughts overcame his need for sleep. _"I hope to hell he's alright. Damn it, Hawk! You're such an idiot, I swear!"_ He was unaware of Charles' return to the Swamp, who quietly sat on his cot and gave BJ his space, not even bothering to jibe him on how hellish and tired the married man looked.  
After a moment, he gave in to his slight, almost insignificant concern and quietly suggested, "Hunnicutt… you need to rest. I know you may not want to, but for your health and welfare, please, rest." BJ soundlessly looked towards him, not in the mood for lashing out, and laid down on his cot, sleep far from coming.

After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning about, he managed to convince sleep to take him, but his nap was not restful in the least.  
Dark clouds swirled through his mind, loud shattering sounds breaking through the defense of the shelter sleep what supposed to offer. Shells rained from the heavens, screams and cries falling on deaf ears. It was here, amongst the gunfire and bombshells that BJ found himself. Diving for cover, he huddled under a few fallen boulders. His eyes scanned the field, looking for anything steadier to shelter in. He saw a rusty and fallen shack in the distance, and when it seemed clear enough, he made a dash for it, his long legs closing the distance easily. Crouching under what might have been a table at one time, he felt his chest heave a sigh.

The shelling started up again, making the ground shake violently. He waited anxiously for it to end, but before it could, he heard shouting. He clambered out from under the table, peering cautiously through the grimy and broken window. In the distance, he could see a figure, tall, lean, and dark-haired.

Hawkeye.


	2. Found

Sorry about the double alert, I missed a typo and had to delete the story to fix it.

Words could not describe the emotions BJ was feeling as he saw his best friend running about the field, looking for a way to safety. He stood up, ran out of the shack, and started shouting back, flailing wildly about in an effort to gain Hawk's attention. "Hawk! Hawkeye! Over here!" He yelled, and the dark haired man's head turned, their gazes meeting. BJ could have sworn he saw him smile. He watched Hawkeye eagerly, waiting for his best friend to cross the field. Hawk made a run for it, and halfway across, as if to spite him, the shelling started again. BJ couldn't see anything through the clouds of dirt that covered the field he had just seen his friend crossing. Desperately, he started yelling again, "Hawk! Hawk! Are you okay? Hawk! Answer me!" The shelling continued, and once it faded, BJ's heart nearly shattered when he laid his eyes on the crumpled figure.

Running towards Hawkeye, his eyes began to sting terribly, and before he knew it, he was crying, as he came up to the familiar crop of smooth, raven hair that he had come to love. "Hawk…" He said quietly, sinking to his knees so he could pick the man up. Once in his arms, he slowly and carefully picked his way back to the shack. Setting him down on the floor, he searched the house for anything to patch Hawkeye up with. He couldn't find anything. "Beej…" A croaking whisper fluttered throughout the home. "Hawk!" BJ cried out, dashing to his side and kneeling next to him. Pulling him into a gentle and wary hug for a moment, he let go to assess the damage.

"Hawk, where does it hurt?" Hawkeye could barely speak, but he said, "My chest, Beej, I can't feel it. Nor can I feel the rest of me." "Hawk…" BJ whispered. He unbuttoned the olive drab uniform jacket Hawkeye wore, softly feeling for anything wrong with his torso. "Ooh, feeling me up, and on the first date, too…" Hawkeye managed to laugh, his blue eyes twinkling despite his pain. Chuckling quietly, BJ replied, "Shut up, Hawk, now's not the time for that…" His fingers glided gently across Hawkeye's torso, fingering the edge of his shirt and sliding his hands underneath, looking for sore spots or anything to let him know what damage had been done.

"Beej. It's pointless, you can stop." Confused, he pulled his hands away, his gaze meeting his friend's. "What…?" "I'm gonna miss you, Beej. You're the best friend I could ever have. I love you, you and your cheesy mustache," Hawk smiled softly, taking BJ's hand and squeezing gently. "Don't forget me, okay? Give Hot Lips a kiss for me." He gave his winning smirk, squeezing BJ's hand again. They sat in silence, watching each other for a few minutes, before BJ took his friend in his arms for a hug. "You're not leaving me." "Sorry, but I have to…" He murmured, strained, and his hand fell from BJ's, and the sparkle returned for a moment to his pale blue eyes. "You're the best damn surgeon I've ever known, the best friend I've ever had, and the greatest man I've ever met… the finest kind." He spoke softly, gently. "You don't need to say goodbye. I'll say it for you this time… no exceptions next time," He murmurs, leaving BJ cold and alone with a tired goodbye.

He could feel the tears now, hot against his frigid body. He felt numb, almost, but it wasn't going to last long. He could hear shelling, choppers, people shouting, from a place he didn't know, but it kept getting louder, more deafening.

He jolted awake, his blue eyes terrified as he glanced about the Swamp, his gaze resting shakily on Hawkeye's empty cot. He didn't have time to dwell, however, as Radar burst in, urging BJ out of bed with the cry of, "Wounded, sir, loads of them! Hurry!" Jumping out of bed, he barely took the time to get dressed, pulling his pants and boots on and dashing out of the door.

He scrubbed, taking his station in OR, taking time to assess the damage on the patient before him, learning that a truck full of troops had been shelled near the 8063rd, and BJ nodded, ignoring the pit forming in his stomach as he remembered that the 8063rd was the last place anyone had seen Hawkeye. Just a routine surgeon swap turned awry by the disease called the Korean War. He held back the anger that rocked his body, clenching his teeth for a moment. He hated the damn war. It had taken him away from home, from Peg, Erin, Mill Valley, and now it had taken Hawkeye. The only problem was that BJ refused to believe Hawkeye was dead. He couldn't be. After his nightmare, though, BJ was unsettled.

"There's enough shrapnel in this kid to build another operating table," BJ muttered, frustrated, pulling fragments of metal out of the open body. "Any more, and we could make him another gun, with bullets to match," he said quietly. "Clamp, Margaret," he asked, taking the clamp and settling it into place, trying to tug shrapnel free without causing damage. He had to be careful, but quick at the same time, the kid was losing blood fast. Thankfully, BJ had gotten all the dirt and metal out of his body, and sutured up the torn flesh inside, soon closing up the wound and sending him off.

"Bring the next one in," He called to Klinger, who replied, "Last one," and the wounded man was brought in and set down. Since everyone was hard at work, BJ was the only one to notice the jet-black hair, shot through with silver. His eyes fluttered open, a pale and icy blue. "Hawk..." BJ whispered, looking at his best friend laying on the cold metal table. "Take care of my insides, Doc, I need 'em," he smiled painfully, letting the nurse put him under.

BJ's eyes slowly pulled away from him, looking towards Potter. "Something wrong, son?" His reply was slow, subdued with disbelief. "It's... it's Hawkeye..." He stuttered, looking back at his friend. "I can't... I can't operate on him. I can't-" "Hunnicutt. You're the only surgeon fit to operate on Pierce. You can do it," Potter's voice was stern, but encouraging. Reluctantly, BJ nodded, taking the scalpel in hand, getting to work. In Post-Op, BJ paced nervously next to the bed Pierce's unmoving form occupied. 'Damn it,' he thought, worried sick and anticipating Hawkeye's return to the real world.

"Beej..." A familiar voice spoke, making BJ's head turn. "Hawk," He nearly cried, relief washing through him. "You dirty bastard!" He was debating whether to hit or hug him. "I try," Pierce smirked, his blue eyes shining with mirth. After a few minutes of silence, BJ looked away, still sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. "Beej?" Came the question, and he shook his head. "One mistake," Hunnicutt murmured, "and you could have died," his remark was icy. "I could barely keep control of myself, the pressure was so overwhelming..."

A sigh was heard, and BJ turned his head. Hawkeye gave him a reassuring smile, and his aching melted away, his gaze locked onto those wonderful blue eyes. "I wouldn't want anyone else to see what makes me tick, it's supposed to be a secret," He chuckled quietly, reaching to gently touch BJ's hand reassuringly. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Pierce himself! I was starting to wonder where you'd gone," Colonel Potter joked, his hands tucked behind his back, grinning. "Welcome back, Pierce. We missed you, it gets too quiet without your wisecracking." Pierce gave his CO a silly smile. "Shucks," He teased, as Potter left to let the others give their warm welcomes.

After everyone was finished, Hawkeye sighed, looking to BJ. "I thought I was captain of the welcome wagon," He laid back, "but I suppose they replaced me," He pouted, and BJ stood. "Welcome back, Hawk. I missed you. Now get some rest." Putting Hawk's vital chart back on the hook, BJ waved, and left, heading towards the Swamp, flopping on his cot for a much needed rest.

This time his thoughts let him be.

There's really nothing for me to note, just enjoy the story, leave reviews if you have ideas or think something needs changing or correcting.


	3. Faltering

It had been about a week since Hawkeye's operation, and he seemed to be healing well. There was proof of this, in the fact that he and Charles were back to their mindless arguing. The tension in the room was almost too much for BJ, considering he was still stressed from the extra work and patients he took on during Hawk's absence. Darning needle in hand, he sat mending his socks, trying to ignore the banter that was growing in volume. After a few minutes, it grew to be too much. "Alright, that's enough! Hawk," BJ started, tossing his sewing aside and standing up. "You look like I need a drink." He said, pulling Hawkeye out of then tent and towards the officer's club.

"Beej." Hawkeye began quietly, "I'm sorry I've been so tense. Everything feels different, and I'm not sure why." "It's alright, Hawk. I overreacted a bit." "I'll buy you a drink, Beej, and not the kind that puts holes in your stomach lining," he chuckled. Their walk towards the officer's club was quiet, peaceful, the kind of walk they liked. They pushed the doors open, taking the seats at the end of the bar. Putting two fingers up, Pierce asked for two beers, handing one to BJ. The conversations following were the usual, catching up on patients, wondering what Hot Lips was up to, and coming up with pranks to pull to save themselves from dying of boredom. After about a half hour, having run out of things to talk about, and alcohol to consume, the two stood and began the walk back to their tent.

The walk was quiet, again, the pair taking comfort in each other's company. When they arrived back at their tent, Charles had taken the opportunity of their absence to fall asleep, and the two entered quietly, settling into their respective cots. Boots were pulled off and bathrobes were hung up. Goodnights were exchanged, and the two pulled their blankets over them. Hawkeye was the first to fall asleep, which may have been from his recovery taking its' toll on him, but BJ wasn't sure.

He was just managing to fall asleep, when a voice broke free of the silence in the tent. It was strangled, muffled, worried. "No, no, why now? I need to get back, no, no… Stop… not now," BJ flipped over, his gaze settling first on Charles, fast asleep with his silk facemask on. No, that wasn't him, so it was Hawkeye… who happened to be tossing about restlessly in his cot. Soon, BJ could hear low, pained groans coming from Hawk's side of the tent. Sitting up, BJ got up and gently squeezed Hawkeye's shoulder in an attempt to wake him up. A few moments later, blue eyes opened, turning to face the person who had disturbed his sleep. "Nightmare," BJ stated. It was a question that didn't even need to be asked anymore. Pierce nodded. "Yeah." "You wanna talk about it?" "No, no, it's okay, Beej… I'll be fine." "You're sure?" "Yeah," Hawkeye waved his hand. "Go back to sleep, Beej, I'm sorry I woke you." "You didn't, Hawk, don't worry. Goodnight."

BJ woke the next morning, only to find the tent empty. He tossed the itchy woolen blanket aside, standing up and stretching. Deciding a shower would be best, he grabbed his things, and his bathrobe, heading toward the showers. When he finished washing up, he dropped his things off at his footlocker, getting dressed. Coffee sounded nice right about now, but since there wasn't any coffee to be found, BJ settled for the thick, sludgy impersonation. Heading to the Mess Tent, he grabbed a tray, serving himself some eggs and a piece of toast. He sat next to Colonel Potter, giving a smile and a good morning to the group. He took a look at his very burnt toast, and then bit at it, immediately regretting doing so. "Have you seen Hawkeye this morning?" BJ asked, picking at his eggs, but not eating, for the sake of his health.

"Post-Op," Potter replied, taking a swig of his coffee, reminding BJ to drink his as well. "Said he was going to take inventory first, then fill out the requisitions for the supplies we needed." "He did seem a bit off, though," Margaret added, and Charles finished her sentence, "He actually ate breakfast this morning, however. I'm sure that's reason enough for one to feel awful." BJ had heard enough, so he nodded. "I'll go check on him," he supplied, standing and taking his tray, dumping it and heading towards Post-Op.

Hawkeye was sitting at the desk in the corner, a pen in hand and forms on the table. "Hawkeye," BJ called quietly, conscious of the patients trying to rest. He crossed the room, coming up behind Pierce. "You alright?" He was answered with a sigh, and blue eyes turned to face him. "I dunno, Beej. I can't focus," He turned back to the desk, putting the pen down and motioning towards the papers he had been filling out. "I've been staring at the same blank page for an hour. I can't get a hold of my thoughts, and it's distracting me from things that need to be done..."

BJ motioned for Hawkeye to come with him. He obliged, slowly, standing and following Hunnicutt back to the Swamp. He sat Pierce down on his cot, and sat on his own, starting with, "Keep talking." Hawkeye sighed, rubbing his temples. "I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched, that something bad is going to happen to me, something I can't stop. You remember," He hugged himself, which wasn't very Hawkeye, BJ noticed, "I didn't sleep last night. But now the nightmares I only had while I slept are creeping into reality, and the nightmare I'm already living is slowly becoming worse. I can't control it," His icy blue eyes looked tired and sad, as his gaze met Hunnicutt's. "... and I'm scared I'm going to hurt someone."

BJ was quiet. He stood, pulling Hawkeye's white coat and stethoscope off and putting them in their usual places. "Sleep. Or at least... try." He murmured, pushing gently on Pierce's shoulder, and pulling the blanket to his neck.

He moved back and sat on his cot, watching as Hawkeye stared at him for a moment, his blue eyes looking lost. "Sleep," BJ nudged, again, and Hawk's eyes closed in response. He was relieved to find that his friend fell asleep quite fast, but couldn't help but think, 'You lucky bastard.' He had just stood to leave, but Hawkeye's eyes fluttered open, and stopped him. "Beej, can you stay?" He blinked. "Please?"

So he did.

Having nothing to do, he pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, deciding to write some of his thoughts away.

_I've noticed recently that Hawkeye has had some troubles. He hasn't been himself, which is understandable, considering he was missing for five days, out in the middle of who knows where. There is so much he doesn't seem to be telling me. Hopefully, that's something I can change soon._

_Whatever he went through really must have gotten to him. He hasn't been chasing nurses. He has days where he drinks more than usual, and then days where he won't touch any alcohol at all. His tomboy-ish innocence has been replaced with a worn and tired look that only matches too well. He's thinner than before, I've noticed. Things I can't control always disturb his sleep, and he's been distracted from his work._

_Hopefully I can help him out of it._

BJ put the pad away, safe from prying eyes, and turned to watch Hawkeye sleep. He had to admit, since his friend's return, he had grown more protective of him. He had also realized that he had taken Pierce and their friendship for granted, which he had put a stop to. The last and perhaps most offsetting of all, was the fact that he saw something else in those icy blue eyes that drew him in, entranced him. He loved it, actually, though he was unsure why, or if he should even think so in the first place.

He didn't even think for a moment that there could be something more. It was such a silly notion, even more so than his "cheesy" moustache. Giving a tired sigh, he blinked tiredly, giving a yawn and pulling out a deck of cards and shuffling them. He didn't get very far into his game of solitaire before Hawkeye yawned and sat up. "You sleep well?" Hunnicutt asked, and Pierce nodded quietly, pulling on his boots. "No nightmares," he murmured, moving to sit next to BJ on his cot. "Up for a game?" BJ asked, and Hawk shook his head. "That's alright. I have those forms to fill out." He stood, about to leave. Putting the cards away, BJ stood as well. "I'll help you. It'll go by faster that way."

He received a nod in reply, and the two picked up the forms from Post-Op, heading off to the supply tent. After a few minutes, BJ realized just how awkward this would seem to someone else. Ignoring it, they began to get to work. Hawkeye would check to see what they needed, and BJ would write it on the list. When they finished, they both began to fill out forms, and after that was finished, they handed the forms off to Radar, who would give them to the Colonel for his approval.

Having nothing else to do, BJ looked to Hawkeye. "You wanna get a drink and waste some time?" "Sure, sure," Hawk replied, tilting his head. "Hold that thought," he paused again. "Choppers," he sighed, walking towards the area where they usually held triage, waiting for the wounded to arrive. When they did shortly after, the pair separated and began to check who needed to be operated on first, what condition they were in, and so forth. The nurses came in quickly, helping the process along, and soon everything was working smoothly into the next phase: OR. BJ remembered the last time he was in this room, his best friend was under the knife. _His _knife. He hoped that Hawk would be alright.

The first of the wounded were patched up slowly, but surely, and the numbers began to decrease. BJ often found his eyes darting over to Hawkeye, to check on him, and each time, he was doing well enough. "Send the next one in," Pierce called, finishing up the last suture and pulling off his gloves. With fresh gloves and fresh instruments, he set to work on the boy set before him. About halfway through, Hunnicutt noticed Hawk faltering.

He stopped altogether, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Ignoring whatever it was that had been bothering him, he continued to work. Soon enough, there were no more wounded to tend to, and the room cleared, letting the people disperse and go about their business. After pulling off their scrubs, both Hawkeye and BJ decided that a shower would be best before bed, so they took their things and went off towards the showers.

Hawk seemed quieter than usual, and he wasn't singing like he might have been any other day. "Hawk," BJ began, taking the soap and rubbing his chest with it, "If something is bothering you, like I know something is, I would hope you knew you could tell me," he paused, putting the soap back and rinsing off, starting to later his hair, "You know I'm here for you." "Yeah, Beej. I know." They spent the rest of their showers in silence, and towelled off, pulling on clothing and bathrobes and taking their belongings back to their tent, items now being stowed away in their rightful places.

The two settled down to relax, and Hawkeye poured himself a drink. "You know, Beej..." he poured a drink for him, "I've always wondered what it's like at the front," he handed the drink to him, and took a sip of his own, "But while I was gone, I think I found out what it was like." BJ remained silent, slowly sipping his drink and listening intently. "I don't think I've ever been more afraid of dying in my life. Especially since there was so much I had left unsaid, so much I hadn't done." Another gulp of the drink in his hand. "I think I realized how important it really is, to say what's on your mind, while you still have the chance... but then I remember that the things I would say should never be said." BJ looked up questioningly, but Hawkeye waved it off. "Don't mind it. It's nothing," he assured him, downing what was left of his gin, and set the glass aside. "I'm going to try and sleep, Beej. Goodnight." "Night, Hawk. Thanks for telling me what's on your mind," Hunnicutt murmured, sipping at his drink while he thought. _'At least he told me... That's good enough I suppose, for now.' _Stealing a glance at the peacefully sleeping Hawkeye, his thoughts were put at ease, and he put the glass away, settling down to sleep as well.


	4. Remembering

The next morning held some odd happenings for BJ, the first being that he woke up before either of his tentmates had. Sitting up and yawning, he found his eye settling onto Hawkeye's sleeping figure, three feet away. For once, he looked at peace in his sleep. That was good, but as if he had spoken his thoughts aloud, Hawk flipped over and opened his eyes. "Opening a private practice in voyeurism, are we?" **That **was more like Hawkeye. "Maybe, but if so, you'll be my only patient," BJ replied, rubbing his forehead with a soft chuckle. "Fine with me," came his reply, which made BJ give Pierce a glance, smirking a bit.

Looking about, BJ realized that the sun hadn't even come up yet. "Well, damn," He began, shifting his gaze to rest on Hawkeye. "Any ideas on how to waste time?" "I remember you had a letter from Peg to answer, you wanna do that?" Shrugging, BJ pulled out his pad of paper, flipping to a new page and beginning to write. Hawkeye did the same thing.

_'I'm still so unsure of myself. My thoughts confuse me more than they ever have, and that's only the first part._

_I suppose I should just write it all out and see if it helps at all..._

_It was just another routine surgeon swap, same as always, except it was my turn. I don't even know why we do them in the first place, I think everyone at the 4077th knows the surgeons at the 8063rd are pretty damn good at what they do. Anyway, the jeep had just pulled in. I grabbed my bag, and the company clerk showed me to the VIP tent. I didn't really need an introduction, or a tour, I'd been here before. Proof that this war has been going on too damn long._

_After a couple of casualties that came in from the front, the shelling started up. At first, everyone had ignored it, but as it came closer, people began to panic. The nurses and some of the doctors began to secure Post-Op and make sure the patients would be okay. I had gone back to my tent, for something I don't remember anymore, and on my way back, the shells began to hit, right in the middle of the compound._

_I remember being thrown from the force of the impact, and then I think I blacked out. I remember having my bag with me, I'm pretty sure I grabbed it so it would be returned to whoever wanted it if I died. When I finally came around, I remember feeling lightheaded, but fighting it and forcing myself to sit up. There wasn't much to where I was, but it certainly wasn't anywhere I'd been before._

_It certainly wasn't the 8063rd, that's for damn sure. I decided I wouldn't stay and wait to get killed, but the moment I tried to stand, I regretted it. The lightheaded feeling I had could have been a sign that I'd hit my head badly, but I checked, and there was nothing there._

_I remember that because I had no idea where I was, I was afraid to move. I felt like if I moved at all, shooting or something would start up and I'd be caught in the middle. Which was exactly what happened. Huh. I managed to duck and crawl to a tree, I didn't know they had those here! But after leaning tiredly against it, I couldn't move anymore and fell asleep._

_The next four days, I think it was, I can't remember. BJ said something about being missing about that long. All I know was that I did a lot of thinking. I think the thing I thought about most was how I missed BJ._

_I wondered if he noticed I was still gone (which was stupid in itself, of course he would have known), and I wondered how he was taking it. There would have certainly been a replacement doctor over there by now, I knew that, but Beej still would have had to take on more patients. I wonder how they made room in Post-Op. Sometimes I wondered if they were looking for me, or if they gave up to the fact that it was likely the shelling that got me._

_Back to my thoughts, though... They were all about BJ. BJ, BJ, BJ. Good old gentleman doctor with the cheesy mustache and almost a grin to match. My best friend. I couldn't help but think often of how much I missed him. And then came the regret. I remembered times when he was down, and things I could had said, should have said, but didn't._

_The punches I mentally threw at my gut were innumerable. And then there were the things I wanted to say, needed to say, but had neither right nor reason to. Things along the lines of, "I love you, Beej. I don't know how I'm going to live without you." Couldn't make sense of it at the time, I had thought it was just because he was my friend. But after I found my way back, I realized that I was wrong. It was more._

_I never thought I would miss the 4077th as much as I did. I felt lost without it; even though I already was. I feel lucky as hell, that I happened to get back to the 4077th, even though my mode of travel wasn't the best. I had a bad chest wound that I don't remember getting, stomach pains, and a whole mess of bruises and scratches. When they put me on the stretcher, I looked around and realized that I was home. At least, I would consider it that. I was nearly giddy as I remembered each familiar nook and cranny that I had missed. I didn't miss the view at which I saw it, though._

_I remember clear as day the look BJ gave me when he realized who it was he was about to cut into. It was painful just looking. I never wanted to see those eyes look so sad and tortured again. That look alone haunts me, I see it every time I blink... I don't know what to do about it. Hopefully I can figure it out and go from there._

Putting the pen and paper away with a heavy sigh, Hawkeye wondered just what it was that kept BJ and him together. They had things in common, for sure, but only a few. And that was the end of the list. After that, the differences went from one side of Korea and back. The first on this list was their attitudes towards girls. BJ was indifferent - - after all, he was married. Hawkeye, though, would chase a nurse halfway back to the states just for a night in her company. Hawkeye had always had some sort of confidence in himself, but with Hunnicutt, it was hard to tell whether or not the tall doctor had any faith in himself at all.

Hawkeye's thoughts drifted to the daydreams he had while he was gone. He wasn't sure why his thoughts had been of only BJ, showering him with soft touches and little whispers, quiet promises that didn't mean anything. He certainly wasn't concerned with the kisses being pressed to his throat, or the fingers gliding across his chest, underneath his shirt. Shaking his head before it could get any further, the thoughts were gone, and Pierce was forced back into reality.

BJ was gone, probably to mail his letter off or get some coffee. Standing, Hawkeye stowed his written thoughts away for safekeeping, having decided that sitting about and thinking of his friend that way probably wasn't the best thing to do. Especially since he was now feeling a bit warmer than he had before. _"Shower,"_ he silently resolved, taking his things and showering quickly, feeling more awake and less dead on his feet. Coffee would help wake him up more, so he went off to the Mess Tent after his trip through the rinse cycle.

"Another day," BJ started, as Hawk sat next to him, coffee in hand.

"Yep. Another day in hell."


	5. Deciding

Why this took so long to update, I'm not sure. But I feel awful about it, actually. Anyhow, here's this chapter.

Also, I think I'm going to stop updating here. I'll probably move everything to my livejournal, so if you want to read there, the link is in my profile.

...

"So, Beej, you finish your letter to Peg?" Hawkeye asked, taking a sip of his coffee. "Yup, just handed it off to Radar," he replied, looking at Hawkeye. "You finish yours?" "Well, I would have, if it were a letter. It was more like a reminder of my experiences." "Ah. For your eyes only?" Hunnicutt asked curiously, the concern showing in his eyes. "I dunno. I think for now, yeah." "If you say so. I have to go check up on some patients, I'll be in Post-Op," BJ announced, gulping down his coffee and leaving Hawkeye alone to think.

"_Probably checking up on the Hersch kid, the one with the nerve damage near the shoulder…" _Hawk wondered if he had ever been in BJ's fantasies. Well, if he had any. Probably not. Beej was married, of course he wouldn't have, especially not any with his best friend involved. That thought in itself was atrocious. Especially not as graphic as his were, although just thinking about that turned him on a lot.

Shooing away the ideas as quickly as they appeared, he stood and left, resolving to find a way to end his odd behaviour. Maybe the best way to do that was to just tell BJ how he felt, but he wasn't so sure that would go over well. Maybe he'd wait until he knew what to say.

Or maybe, since he was done pretending, and fed up with making excuses, he'd find Beej, pull him aside, and just wing it. And probably lose his best friend. But he would have tried that way. He would have stopped with the excuses. Being honest would hurt the least. He knew from experience, only too well. One wrong word, and everything could be lost.

_"Maybe I should write it down and send it to him at the end of the war," _he chuckled to himself. _'So, Beej, how's being home treating you? By the way, I love you, and too much. Tell Peg and Erin I said hello.' _The reaction he imagined he would receive wasn't exactly one that he liked, which caused him to sigh tiredly.

Heading over to Post-Op on a whim, he sidled up to BJ and remarked, "Hersch looks better." "Yep, he's doing fine," Hunnicutt made a mark or two on the clipboard and hung it back on the hook. "He can move his arm, that's good. Let's just hope all goes well and it stays that way without any problems."

Hawkeye drew a breath and held it for a moment. "Listen, Beej," he began, but before he could continue, the PA cut him off. "Wounded in the compound! Sorry, folks, put away the pigskin; the war is back on account of bad sportsmanship!" The two didn't let another word get in the way of their job.

"This one has a bad chest wound, prep him fast, before he goes into shock," "Leg wound, it's minor, he can wait," "Nicks and scrapes, what is this, kindergarten?" "These kids must be in the Army, they're green and red and loaded with shrapnel. I mean, this kid has enough metal in him to make dogtags for a whole new war," "Maybe they'll send us home early," "Only to send us right back, you know,"

The effort to make triage less miserable was a load of a task, and the only way BJ and Hunnicutt were able to cope was through their joking, despite the seriousness to the situation. There had been enough wounded in pre-op to start operating on the bad cases, so the pair scrubbed and got to work. "Better get settled in, boys, we got a lot of work to do," Potter said tiredly, his assisting nurse helping him put gloves on. "Yeah, well, it's not like I had anything planned," Hawkeye jibed, as the first wounded was set before him.

The kid's insides looked like meatloaf. It was almost impossible to tell what went where among the bloody mess. Hawkeye wondered what kind of pain the kid had felt before he got here. Probably something immense, considering the damage… it was going to be hell putting him back together.

"Insert Tab A into Slot B," Pierce muttered absently, pulling the last piece of shrapnel out and clamping a piece of bloody flesh down so he could suture it back into place. "Geeze, this kid… Margaret, get me some suction, right there," Another suture in place, Margaret siphoned the blood away as fast as it came. "And… there," More suction, and more stitches. "One more," he said to himself, starting on the process of closing up the wound.

"Next," Hawkeye called, pulling off his gloves and looking back at Beej, who was hard at work. New gloves were pulled on and more shrapnel was pulled out. The cycle seemed it would never end. Open one kid, clean him up, put him back together, close up, and repeat. Over and over. Each time he started the process, more blood stained his hands. Blood that would take years to get out, blood that became a reminder that he was just another cog in the war machine.

Another kid sent out to Post-Op to heal, another kid to send back to the war, only to come back. "Sponge," a stitch in the right direction, this kid wouldn't go back to the war. "Clamp," He'd go home, lucky man he was. Later, Hawk surmised, he'd go and ask the boy about what was waiting for him. Something wonderful, like a girlfriend and a nice family. How nice.

"34 hours," Potter sputtered resignedly, and BJ chimed in, "We got let out early, for recess." "Sooner or later, the class bully will show up," Hawk sighed, turning after a moment. "Oh, Charles! See, what did I tell you? Class bully." "You insufferable... agh, I cannot be bothered to deal with you, Pierce." "You saved us from losing our lunch money, Hawk," BJ claimed, "but now we have no excuse for skipping lunch."

"Well... I figure we'll have more fun making pea shooters," A pause, "To shoot spitballs at bullies. Oh Chahles," Hawk laughed a bit, imitating Winchester's thick accent. "Now, now," cried Father Mulcahy, giving a mirthful laugh. "You know, I'm not actually hungry," a chorus of voices agreed, and so everyone sat at a table. After a period of silence, Radar came in; saying there'd be more wounded soon. "Well, we better all rest up in shifts, I suppose," Colonel Potter started, slurping down some coffee flavoured sludge. "Hunnicutt, Margaret, and Winchester will go first, then we'll switch. Now get out and go get some sleep." The group disbanded, leaving Father Mulcahy and Pierce sitting at the table.

This was the best opportunity he'd get, Pierce decided, catching the father before he left. "Er, Father, can I talk to you?" Hawkeye asked, motioning towards the outside of the tent. "Sure, Hawk, what is it that you need?" A deep sigh, this might take a while, as they headed into the priest's tent. "Well… I was wondering if you could help me with something… a little personal." "Ah, is that so?" "Yeah, actually. I feel so silly just thinking about it. But I'm not sure what to do, I mean… I'm confused." "About what, may I ask?" "I suppose it'd be relationship troubles…"

This made the spectacled blonde smirk. "Hawkeye, the lady charmer, coming to _me_ for advice. This is certainly something I never thought I'd see." "Well, you see, I just don't know how to tell them is all. I don't want to lose a good friend, but knowing that on my side, it's more than that, well… it's a bit distracting is all." "Yes, yes, I'm sure. Did you think about just talking I out? Maybe write them a letter, leave it by their bed." He paused, "I don't know, my boy, I don't know. I'm not the best person for a situation like this…" "That's alright, thank you, Father. Ill be going now, thank you for talking with me," Hawkeye murmured, standing from his chair and walking towards the door with an, "I really appreciate it, actually."

Though that hadn't helped as much as he'd wanted, it had helped, and that was enough. He decided to go through with his first idea.

He'd write Beej a letter.

...

Onto the next chapter!


	6. Restlessness

okay so I'm an idiot for not updating this. Here! Forgive me? 3

* * *

With the sun having set a while ago, Hawkeye found himself restless. How should he say that? How should he write it? Would Beej be able to recognize his tone, understand what was more important than anything else? Feh, that wasn't much help. It wouldn't really have been a good idea to write right now, anyhow.

He'd have to turn a light on, and he didn't want to wake Charles or Beej. _Maybe in the morning, then…only if I can sleep before then, anyhow._ After countless thoughts, Hawkeye gave up, giving his thoughts free reign.

Apparently his mind thought it best to take him back to the time when the Army had declared him dead. How he was worried sick about his father, and had planned to leave on Digger's bus... then BJ came to make sure that was what he wanted. The look he gave Hawkeye, that changed his mind alone. It was so sad, full of heartbreak, an emotion he never wanted to see in those blue eyes.

It was as if those eyes had said, "You can't leave me alone here, in hell, you can't..." And those eyes were right, Hawk just couldn't leave Beej alone. Not like Trapper had done to him. That day was one he wouldn't forget; it was almost like having his heart broken. His best friend had gotten to leave, and couldn't say goodbye.

Hawkeye also remembered how he had been around BJ when be first showed up. He was just a replacement. He wasn't the same. He wasn't Trap; he wasn't his best friend. Too clean-cut. But then clean-cut BJ opened up, and that was the beginning of a friendship. A great one. One Pierce wouldn't forget, either.

And now he was in love with his friend. He wasn't... 'one of those', as Frank had always said. Or maybe he was. Probably not, he had never felt this away about any man before now. So maybe this was different. Maybe. How uncomfortable - swimming in his thoughts even while he tried to fall asleep. Eventually he just might drown.

Soon, his restless thoughts quieted down, long enough for him to sleep. Maybe, he thought, before he closed his eyes the last time, his mind would sort things out in his sleep. Maybe.

What felt like barely any sleep at all was, well, not really enough. A gentle nudging woke Pierce from his slumber, and his eyes fluttered open, looking sleepily up towards the one who woke him. "Good morning, sunshine," He smiled. "Beej," Hawkeye blinked, rolling over with a sigh. "I feel like I got run over by a tank," he groaned, "And I think I have the tread marks to prove it." Laughing, Hunnicutt replied, "Gives a whole new meaning to 'thrown under the bus', doesn't it?" "Yeah, I'm sure. I feel awful, though." Yawning, he rolled back over and sat up. "I think what I need is no breakfast, and a mug of motor oil. That should help," Pierce pulled on his pants, then his boots. "Since I can't go back to sleep, anyway."

"Rough night?" "Yeah." "Nightmares?" "Lucky for me, no. Just too much on my mind." "Ah. Well, if you need to talk," BJ stood up from his cot, placing his hand on Hawk's shoulder, "You know where to find me." "Yeah, thanks." Hawkeye smiled a bit, standing up and pulling on his olive drab jacket. "C'mon, I'll buy you coffee," He smirked, looking at BJ. "Sure, just make sure to hold the tar." Chuckling for a moment, Pierce opened the door, letting Hunnicutt inside and standing behind him in the serving line. "I'll have the continental breakfast," BJ stated simply, smirking a bit. "Me, I'll take some toast," Hawkeye said, taking a slice of bread and grabbing two mugs and filling them with coffee for his best friend and himself.

BJ had already sat down, and about to take his own seat, Hawkeye placed his mug of coffee in front of him, adding "Your wine, good sir." Sitting down as well, he took a sip of his, erm… _coffee_, and pulled a piece of the crusts off of his toast, eating it slowly. "Going to be a rather slow day, I suppose." BJ started, earning a nod from his friend. "Yeah, no wounded in two days. I thought this was a war."

"Don't get too excited," Colonel Potter called, sitting down across from Hunnicutt. "You just might jinx yourself." Blinking, BJ replied, "Well, Hawk, you might have just saved us from dying of boredom, but I suppose being bored is better than the war calling." Hawkeye sighed. "Yeah, I suppose. So Colonel, anything that needs done?" "Nothing that Radar hasn't already done, no. At least, I can't imagine what else there would be to do 'round here." The colonel paused. "Why, Hawk, you running out of things to bake your noodle?" "No, no, not really. But you know how boredom is, even manual labor is something to do, Colonel." "Yeah, yeah, I know." He took a slug of his coffee, and continued. "We should be getting another movie soon, though. Today, actually, if the army is feeling gracious today. Just go about your duties, if we get the movie, you'll know."

Hawkeye decided this lull in work would be as good a time as any to try and sift through his cluttered thoughts.


End file.
